


curse my stars

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: Brothers Grim [24]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Diego POV, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sad and Happy, creeper Ben, happy birthday hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 06:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: His mouth is always open slightly,  and Klaus - Klaus fucking remembers finding it to be the singularly most annoying fucking thing on the planet. That Diego had to walk around like some goddamn neanderthal cave breather with his goddamn mouth open and now --- now he thinks it’s fucking cute, with just that hint of bunny teeth. Love is a sickness. It’s insanity. “What's got your world turned upside down, then?”“You,” Klaus says, without really thinking.





	curse my stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is my last update for a while! I think I'm just gonna pop this into hiatus until the new season is out. There hasn't been a lot of feedback on recent chapters and I think we're all just a little tapped on the fandom at the moment but I look forward to seeing you all with the new season! 
> 
> Love you! I'll still be replying to comments if anyone does drop in to read. I hope you like the new chapter! 
> 
> The title is from The Fool by Ryn Weaver <3

Five makes no perceptible change in his treatment of Diego, Klaus or Ben. He’s still tiny and abrasive, still squirrely and somewhat unhinged. Klaus decides to follow suit and act as nothing has changed. 

But in reality - 

  
  


Things are  _ different _ . 

It all sort of comes to a head as September ends and bleeds into October. 

There’s a hand on his ass, broad and calloused, and a thumb dipping familiarly beneath the back waistband of his abominable jeans. They’re not  _ doing  _ anything. They’re just standing there - awkwardly on the terrace above the garden, watching Vanya play in the gazebo below. Luther and Allison are huddled up by the french doors, behind the lip of the roof, safe from the rain. Ben, in contrast, is starfished out on the smooth, stone patio, with his pale lids closed and a sleepy, pleased smile curling faintly at the mouth. He is unperturbed by the rain; Klaus thinks he might love it. Five watches from an open window across the courtyard; Vanya, them. Everything is soft, and on the sweeter side of somber, melancholia soothed by the comfort of a hand in your pocket. 

It’s their birthday. 

Their thirtieth birthday. 

  
  


Later there will be cake; something beautiful and pristine, three-tiered with late-season strawberries or dainty sugar violets. Mom will present it on a scalloped, pale pink cake stand, atop a frilly lace doily she’ll have crocheted for just the occasion. There will be no candles, and instead - a void at the end of the table no one dares fill. Not even Luther would be so bold. Sir’s absence doesn’t exactly upset them, but they can hardly escape it. 

Klaus wonders if any of them consider the fact that...were he alive, he probably wouldn’t have joined them anyway. Not for anything so frivolous as  _ cake _ . 

Ben catches his eye, looking up at them from the patio and he waves a little, a new quirk to the corner of his mouth. Klaus blows him a kiss and Ben just laughs, resuming his starfish sprawl across the stone. Diego worries sometimes - that they leave Ben out when they’re like this. But Ben is exactly where he wants to be in their rela---

In  _ this _ . 

And Diego never worries he’s leaving Klaus out when he’s with Ben and Klaus realizes too late that it’s because it’s different to Diego. Ben and Klaus are  _ different _ . 

And Klaus should have seen it coming. He should have known. But how would he? Given who he is as a person, how would he? Except that - Diego and Ben are very different from  _ him  _ and he’s known that for a while now. 

Vanya’s music is  _ beautiful _ . Evocative; its  _ storytelling _ . Some might even call it  _ haunting _ . 

Klaus doesn’t want to hear it anymore. 

As he fades back into the bedroom, Diego follows and Klaus doesn’t...he doesn’t really know what to  _ do  _ with that. He is no stranger, he is no fool. Diego’s bullheadedness was only surpassed by his loyalty to whatever cause he deemed worthy and Klaus can’t really wrap his mind around the idea it might be  _ him _ . But when he drops down onto the bench at the foot of the bed, Diego drops down too, to kneel between his open thighs and Klaus doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even think to hesitate - he kisses him. He kisses him because he’s  _ there _ , and Diego kisses him back, with two hands coming to cup Klaus's face. 

Klaus bites him. Couldn’t say why, except - it’s too soft right now, too tender. Tender like bruises are tender - if Diego  _ pushes _ , Klaus will  _ hurt _ . 

So Klaus  _ bites  _ him, and Diego smiles into it, unperturbed by the casual violence, unperturbed by the fact he’s fucking his brothers. Fucking -  _ Diego _ . Klaus is broken. Klaus sold his morality for a dime bag, for a  _ break _ . Diego’s still got a little good left in him - and he spends it on Klaus. 

And Klaus wants to be mad. God, he wants to be mad, and maybe he is, just a little. Maybe he wants to bite Diego. Maybe he wants to hurt him. Maybe he wants to panic and disappear. Maybe he wants to give a flying fuck about the fact he’s dicking two of his brothers and there’s something cosmically wrong with that. Maybe he wants to call Diego disgusting and  _ mean  _ it. Maybe he wants to ask him what in the blue fuck is he thinking. Maybe he wants to shove him away, with laughter or cruelty. Maybe he wants to not feel so fucking terrified. Maybe he thinks he’s a fucking fool forever letting this happen. 

Klaus is many maybes. 

But what he  _ is _ ...what he truly is, is grateful. And what he does is kiss him back. 

Diego sees the war in him anyway and it’s

It’s

It’s fucking annoying, actually. To have someone look at you and  _ see  _ you. It’s annoying. 

Klaus bares his teeth. 

And Diego asks 

That mother fucker asks Klaus

_ “Are you okay?”  _

And Klaus can’t breathe. He can’t  _ breathe _ . Most people just wish to die, but Klaud can’t even have that. “Am I okay? Am I  _ okay _ ? ”

And clearly, as he is not, Diego doesn’t ask again. Instead, he presses. “What do you need?” 

And it’s just--- It’s  _ thoughtful  _ of him to ask. Thoughtful of Diego to steal away into the shadows and kneel between his thighs and hold his face and  _ give  _ a shitting fuck about why Klaus is having a swift and sudden breakdown at his own birthday party. Klaus lets his palms come to grasp Diego’s wrists, where he’s raised both arms just so, to hold Klaus's face. “Don’t do this,” Klaus croaks, shaking his head and closing his eyes because the upturned concern in Diego’s unrepentant, shameless gaze is too much. “C’mon Diego. Don’t do this.” 

“Do  _ what _ .” Diego is aggrieved. Aggressive. Clearly fucking annoyed. Diego  _ usually  _ is. Except his eyebrows are also furrowed, and he’s hunched forward, forcing Klaus to hold his eye, like maybe if he stares long enough, he’ll see the truth there. He presses a thumb to the corner of Klaus's mouth and neither of them would be shocked if Klaus kissed it. It’s that- it’s that casual....casual intimacy, that’s  _ fucking Klaus up _ . “What did I do?” 

_ Please don’t be so kind.  _

  
  


Because Klaus had been sort of crippled by the idea that he should love anyone who might not love him back. Until---- Until Dave, it had been the only love he’d ever allowed himself, but well. Dave changed things. Made Klaus feels things. And maybe, yeah, he’s a little hungry for it. He’s a Dickonson era scabby little street kid careful not to press his palms to the window of a pristine, pastel candy store. And the glass is so clear, so clean, it’s as if it’s not there at all and Klaus deludes himself into thinking, just for a moment, he could reach right out and take what he wants. Then, just as he moves to stretch that Hello palm, his breath fogs the glass until all he can see is grey, and he remembers himself and where he came from. 

No one. 

Nothing. 

So tell him why it feels like he’s walking on broken glass?

  
  


And Diego’s hands are rough and calloused with scabs on his knuckles, and bruises on the heel. “It’s okay. It’s  _ okay _ .” He presses their forehead together. “Breathe with me okay, just breathe.” 

The window doesn’t fog because there is no window, just Diego with his hands on Klaus's face. He wipes away tears - Klaus wishes he wasn’t crying - with twin sweeps of his thumb. “Sorry,” Klaus manages, feeling stupid and sounding stupid all the same. “Sorry, sorry - I don’t know why I---” 

Diego kisses the corner of his mouth and Klaus feels so fucking  _ gutted  _ by it. For Klaus - love had been....love was....love is staying up to make sure they come home safe. Love is pulling them out of their heads. Calling their shit. Love is knowing how they drink their stupid seasonally inappropriate sugarfucked coffee. Love is making sure they're close get switched from the washer to the dryer before they start to mildew. Love is not a word Klaus thinks he can ever say, not to Diego - not the kind of love that’s tearing him up. But he thinks - it’s a thing he could do. 

_ What’s love to you _ , he thinks, turning to kiss Diego’s palm the same way he always does for Klaus. It’s a--- It’s a love  _ language _ . He remembers Allison telling Vanya about love languages so many fucking years ago - back when Diego was just a creeper and Ben couldn’t make it past the ten-second mark. 

Not so long ago for something _ so long ago.  _

And when they kiss, it’s salty from where he’s cried and he feels stupid and awful and small and safe and warm and like maybe things might be okay---

As okay as any incestuous courtship maintained between brothers can be. 

And why does it matter anyway - why does it even matter? Because love isn’t relative. Love isn’t---it isn’t so benign. Love is like the cosmos - there is no metric to its limits, there is no standard, there is no set path to parallel. It’s not respective to anything. 

_ Shit _ , he’s high. He has not been this high in some time. It takes...effort. It takes time. But it’s his birthday and he started at nine. Somewhere outside, Ben’s starfished on the ground in the garden and none of his siblings find this odd, nor do they question the cloy and choke dragons breath of smoke that rises up from the basement anytime Ben or Klaus open the door. Horticulture, motherfuckers. Get a hobby. Hobbies are  _ healthy _ . 

He accidentally snorts into the kiss, shoulders coming up on a sharp, short laugh. Diego smiles, the peculiar one that pulls his whole head faintly to the side like a curious dog. “What's funny?” 

“I thought too long about the stars once,” he tells Diego because this is hardly the first time. “And I realized that up and down aren’t  _ real _ . So when everything goes upside down in my life, I remind myself that there’s no such thing as up, so why does it even  _ matter _ ? Sometimes...sometimes it’s gotta be okay to just...to just exist and not worry about all that other shit.” 

And the lines at the corner of Diego’s eyes are no deeper than Klaus's own, but he wears them better in Klaus's opinion. “Yeah?” His mouth is always open slightly, and Klaus - Klaus fucking remembers finding it to be the singularly most annoying fucking thing on the planet. That Diego had to walk around like some goddamn neanderthal cave breather with his goddamn mouth open and now --- now he thinks it’s fucking  _ cute,  _ with just that hint of bunny teeth. Love is a sickness. It’s insanity. “What's got your world turned upside down, then?” 

“You,” Klaus says, without really thinking, already folding in on himself like a goddamn card table. There’s a haze to the world, like a second skin only Klaus can see through and sometimes the call to follow it is almost too much. It’s distracting, to be in two places at once. 

Diego  _ blinks _ , and Klaus is back to himself. “Oh.” He looks down, in the space between Klaus's thighs, and his lashes flutter like little raven wings and Klaus feels like his insides are too big for his outsides, but the insides are relative; maybe he’ll burst into a thousand little pieces or maybe he’ll just  _ puke _ . His hands tremble, and Klaus is  _ invested  _ in watching Diego licks his bottom lip before sinking his teeth down into it. It’s like staring into the  _ sun _ . Klaus is Ichabod and Diego, the sun - how fucking fitting. How fucking kismet. Diego the Golden Son, a god ---and Klaus--- “Klaus I---” And Klaus wants to know - fuck he wants to know, exactly what Diego _ \---- What, Diego? What?  _ Diego answers like good Gods do. “Klaus, I love you.” 

  
  


And Klaus --- Klaus isn’t actually sure he’s ever heard Diego say those words to him, or anyone else. Not in any capacity, brotherly otherwise. Their childhoods - their lives- did not lend themselves to that sort of speak, but Klaus never doubted they did. All of them - they loved each other in all the ways their shared past had taught them. 

But even if he had

This is  _ different _

And all the wind escapes his lungs in a single, shattered breath. Klaus is a body with a fish-hooked spine, curled over like he can protect his soft white underbelly to the realities of the world. Like the puppet strings left clinging from their childhood had come undone all at once. But Diego is there to catch him, with heavy hands around his waist. “Hey, hey, hey,” he hushes, catching Klaus jaw in a clumsy kiss. “Klaus---” 

Klaus is afraid of what he might say. Afraid he might - might fucking take it back, or something. Eat the words right up out of the air between them. So he kisses Diego before he can speak further.  _ Fuck _ , he thinks as he licks into Diego’s mouth,  _ I love you too _ . His mouth won’t make the words; he’s a little bit broken. Instead, he’s pushing Diego backward, tumbling him to the floor, crawling his way up his body --- tangling their fingers together with his left hand and bracing himself with the right. Diego grabs his hip and hisses through his teeth as his head smacks the floor. But he’s pushing up too, bare feet braced against the floor. “Klaus---” 

“Fuck,” he says, feeling his back smack hard against the warped and splintered floorboards. Diego flips them with ease, Klaus doesn’t even  _ think  _ to resist. He just lets himself melt, lets Diego crash into him. He gets his hands free, fingers shaking as he undoes the zip on Diego’s pants --- 

“I love you,” Diego says again, all airless and raspy, as Klaus gets his hand on his dick and it’s just as bizarre as the first time - the words and Klaus hand on his dick.  _ “I love you.” _

Bizarre because it feels right. 

Bizarre because it fits. 

And Klaus lets the words wash over him, just as Diego gets his dick slotted into the dip of Klaus’ hip and all the sweet friction turns his head to static. “ _ Yeah _ ,” Klaus says like a goddamn lunatic. 

“Yeah?” Diego grinds forward, palm against Klaus's palm, and the other braced against the floor. He’s grinning like Klaus said something valid, something equally important. They have their fucking pants on and Klaus thinks he could come like this just because Diego loves him. 

Love is goddamn stupid. 

But he feels it in his bones. His blood. It’s a single frigid raindrop racing down his burning spine and he is aware of it - he’s so fucking aware. “ _ Yeah _ .” He shakes his hand, frees it from Diego’s tangle. Diego looks upset and that's Klaus has to kiss the little frown right off his face before rolling beneath him, belly down against the carpet. “My fucking---” 

But Diego’s already shoving Klaus jeans down because Diego can read him like a fucking  _ book  _ now. He knows what Klaus wants, what he fucking needs and it’s to just be railed directly into the goddamn floorboards. 

He’s not good at expressing his emotions, but he’s pretty good at  _ this _ . So he lifts his hips as Diego pushes down his jeans, and he’s not really ready, not wet enough but the pain seems right. Klaus reaches behind himself to dig his fingers into Diego’s hair. Diego bites him, pressing right in and Klaus can  _ see  _ them. Across the room in the reflection of the glass-front cabinet. 

“Fuck,” he cries, as Diego finds his balance, knees braced wide, one hand splayed against the floor and the other pulling Klaus up to meet his every push. “Fuck---” 

“They’ll hear you,” he whispers, biting Klaus jaw. “They’re gonna hear you.” He doesn’t sound like he’s warning Klaus to quiet down, not at all. 

He sounds like he’s telling him.  _ They’re gonna hear you.  _

Klaus lets go of his bastard grip on Diego’s hair so he can slap his palms against the floor and brace himself for every jarring impact. He can feel the curve of his spine as Diego pushes himself up, to put his own hand in Klaus's hair. 

He  _ pulls _ , and Klaus feels his vertebrae crack crack crack. He has the benefit of witnessing the very moment Diego discovers their reflection, brown eyes widening, the part of his mouth pink and wet where he gasps, just a little like he’s never fucking seen them before. Klaus holds himself up at the elbows, nails biting into the wood beneath him and he’s so fucking hard but he can’t bring himself to touch himself and Diego grins like he fucking knows it, leaning back and angling his hips so---

“ _ Fuck _ !” Klaus cries, slipping a little across the floor but Diego’s there to catch him, two hands spanning his belly and holding him in place and Klaus is pretty sure he’s never been fucked so roughly in the ass while also feeling strangely fucking  _ cherished _ . 

He’s not sure he’s ever felt cherished at all.    
  
But it’s hard to deny, as Diego leads him to sit upon his knees, Klaus back flushes against his chest - that Diego is different. And it’s stupid - they’re fully dressed, with Klaus jeans pushed to his knees, cock out and slapping against his stomach. Diego’s no better, jeans barely below his ass. He keeps his mouth on Klaus though, right below his ear, and his hands push and pull at the flimsy fabric of his shirt until Klaus can see every pale inch of his own taught white underbelly. When Diego finally touches him - _they fucking hear. _

Klaus lets both his hands raise, and reach behind himself, so he can hold Diego in place, his own head tilted back. “Haaaaah---” Diego’s rough, and Klaus will hurt tomorrow, but it’s so good right now. “Haaappy  _ Birthday _ .” 

Diego lets his free hand drift up and up and up until the web between his thumb and forefinger are pressed against Klaus's throat. He presses, and he presses and he presses and he fucks Klaus while Klaus holds very still and wonders how Diego got so good at this, wonders how long it’ll take for the black dancing at the edge of his vision to swallow him up---  _ “I love you.”  _

_ I love you too,  _ Klaus thinks, brain turning liquid as he comes and crumples, sweetly secured in the knowledge Diego will fuck him till he’s done, too. 

As he lets his head fall back against the floor, he looks back and upside down - to see the visage of Ben, leaning casually against the balcony, half masked in the drapes. It’s not exactly teleportation - but he can always find Klaus. He can’t quite get Ben into focus, rattled by every thrust and fuck of Diego’s body as it crashes into his own but when he does - he can tell that Ben’s  _ smiling _ . 

_ You creepy fuck, _ Klaus half mouths but he doesn’t think he’d have to say the words for Ben to hear them anyways. 

Ben blows him a kiss.  _ I love you too, asshole. _

“F--F--Fuck-k-k---” Diego rattles, fingers biting into Klaus's thigh and he hasn’t noticed Ben, too caught up in the crush of their bodies. “Fuck, I--- I---” 

Say it, Ben thinks ---- 

And Klaus  _ hears  _ it. 

_ C’mon asshole, fucking say it.  _

What the fuck?

_ Klaus--- fucking tell him you love him already.  _

Ben’s in his head. Ben’s...sort of always been in his head but this is tangibly different. 

_ C’mon _ , he spills into Klaus’ brain.  _ C’mon Klaus. You fucking love him.  _

Klaus grabs Diego’s face in a sloppy, sweaty hold, lets his fingers curl and tangle in the fine, short hairs on the back of his skull. Diego doesn’t slow, not a bit, but he does look at him - mouth open on rapid, staccato breaths. He looks at Klaus, brow scrunched, and Ben hisses  _ fucking tell him you piece of shit oh my God what the fuck Klaus tell him tell him Jesus look at him he loves you---- _ . “I love you.” 

Diego bares his teeth, eyes clenching closed as he fucks in harder, scooting Klaus up the fucking floorboards. He’s always so relentless, from the first thrust to the last and Klaus sort of envies the unwavering stamina. When he comes - he opens his eyes and it’s a wicked sort of broken look that shines across his face. “Oh,” he says, lashes fluttering and Klaus can already feel his come fucking gushing, spilling right down his balls. “ _ Oh---fuck _ .” 

It’s different when you’re in love. Nina Parker, a street girl Klaus sometimes shared a hotel with, in the winter when they couldn’t risk the elements - had told him once. It’s different. 

Klaus had fucked himself to some level of knowledge even before he started selling his ass and he liked sex - he fucking loved sex. Not all sex was good, and bad sex was usually more boring than anything else, but he liked the way it numbed his mind like his brain couldn’t keep up with cognitive thought, not when his body was throwing a fucking party. 

With Diego - every never in his body is alive. His brain is a mash of color and sound and sensation. Dark brown eyes, white scars, and pink cheeks. The velcro rasp of their back and forth breath, the wet slap of skin, the absolute fucking filth they speak. The way his brain spins circles on  _ iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou  _ and the sensation of that, bubbling up in his brain, spills out across his body turning him into a livewire for Diego to press and press and press until the world fritzes out, overloaded, powers burst. 

And Klaus pulls him down, crashes Diego into him and wraps both his skinny fucking arms around him until Diego’s breath is buried in the curve of Klaus's throat, and the whole of his body pins Klaus down. 

Diego bites him, very gently, and Klaus can’t tell if he laughs or sobs. 


End file.
